Downton Abbey: Season 5
by sableebony
Summary: Rose attends a village dance, Branson finds a way to get rid of the pesky Sara Bunting, and Mary finds a solution to her suitor problem!


Rose sat glumly at the dining room table. Across the expansive white tablecloth sat Branson, engrossed in a newspaper. Downton Abbey was so boring these days. Only old people lived there. London was the place for _young_ people, and where Rose thought she should be. But here she was in Yorkshire, sitting at a fancy old table with nothing to do. Edith had gone to London to visit the newly returned Michael Gregson and Mary was having lunch with Blake. Or Gillingham. One of them, anyway.

Branson put down the newspaper and, looking deep in thought, strode out of the room. Rose was alone, except for the footman standing by the scrambled eggs.

Rose patted her Marcel wave, and contemplated footmen.

Deciding she rather liked them, she approached Jimmy and tried to strike up a conversation.

"Hello - "

"Jimmy, Miss."

"Ah. Jimmy. Well, um, what are you doing today?"

"Being a footman, mostly."

"Oh, yes, how silly of me! Hem. Do you like dancing?'

Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"Miss?"

To save her from any further embarrassment, Robert came into the dining room. Rose smiled at him, then hurried out the door.

Mary couldn't decide which one she liked better. She had visited Gillingham for breakfast at Madame Rosés, then had lunch with Blake at the Constantine. For dinner she was indulging in fine soup with Gillingham once again. Both were polite, funny, and they both wanted to marry her.

On one hand, Blake was richer.

On the other, Gillingham was nicer.

On the other . . . Mary stopped there, realizing that people usually only had two hands. She also realized that the person she really wanted was Matthew, and he was -. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Is something the matter?" Asked Gillingham kindly.

_Yes,_ thought Mary.

"No," she said.

"Good. Now, about that cottage I was talking about . . ."

Branson was thinking about that girl. Sara. He didn't like her forward ways, but she was a bit like Sybil. He wished Robert would stop giving him dirty looks. Geez.

He was walking in the village, on an errand, thinking. Suddenly, Sara herself came walking out from an alleyway, clutching a teetering pile of books.

She handily dropped one in front of Branson.

_Not you again,_ he thought. _What an obvious stalker._

"Oops," intoned Sara in a high, girlish voice.

"Hello, Sara," said Branson rather resignedly, picking up the book and handing it to her.

"Oh, _thank_ you, Tom. What a _coincidence_ you're here! I was just thinking about you."

_Coincidence, my foot,_ thought Branson, but he smiled.

"I was just on my way to the art gallery. They have an exhibition going on with some locals showing off their work."

"Another coincidence! I was _just_ going there!"

_Only the gallery is in the opposite direction of the way she's heading_, thought Branson. _But I suppose I should be gentlemanly . . . _

"_What_ a coincidence, I agree! Well, how about we go together!"

"I think I'll take you up on that offer!"

"Great," said Branson.

_Not._

Rose saw a slip of paper lying in the main hall. A servant must have dropped it, she decided. Furtively glancing around her, she picked it up and read:

Autumn Dance!

9.00 pm, Saturday September 12th

_ Come and enjoy a night of dancing,_

_ singing, and laughter! _

_ Drinks and refreshment provided._

The Old Barn, Yorkshire road

September 12th! That was today! Rose could hardly contain her excitement. Slipping the paper into her silk pouch, she snuck down the stairs to the servant's quarters, then hurried out the back door before Mrs. Patmore (who was cooking a soufflé in the kitchen) could see her.

Finally! Some fun!

Sara didn't really like art much, but she did like one thing, and that was Branson. She hummed and hawed around the gallery, making the occasional comment about the artist's use of controposto or chiaroscuro. Branson seemed impressed at her vocabulary.

They stopped to see an artist at work. His large canvas was brightened by daring swashes of colour. It was that new style, abstract. Sara didn't care much for it.

Branson, however, seemed engaged.

Turning to Sara, he said, "This is the new age of art - its future! I can see real political ties with abstract art and socialism."

Suddenly, Branson fell, right towards the canvas! He caught himself with an arm and used the artist's shoulder to heave himself up. Sara thought she might be seeing things, but she _thought _she saw Branson mutter something into the artist's ear. Probably nothing too important.

Brushing his coat off, he stood up and apologized to the artist, then went to look at some other works. Sara made to follow him, but just as she passed the artist, an enormous blob of gooey blue paint came flying off of his brush, and hit her splat in the face.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKEeeeeeeeekkkkk!AAAHHUUUUUGGGGHHH!" screamed Sara.

Branson looked at her, then started giggling. The artist winked at him, then joined in. Soon, the two of them were rolling on the floor, pointing and guffawing at Sara.

Sara's jaw dropped open and tears flooded her eyes. She stormed out of the gallery, angrily wiping the blue paint with a sodden handkerchief.

She vowed she would never see Branson again. Ever.

Rose checked her gold filigree pocket watch. 8:30, half and hour until the dance! She would only just make it in time. Her shoes clicked against the cobblestones and she dashed to the barn. Strangely, she heard clicks that followed those of her shoes, meaning . . . Someone was behind her! Someone was following her!

_How exciting!_ Thought Rose giddily.

She whirled around and saw - Jimmy!

"Oh, hello, Jimmy!" Said Rose, looking amazed, "Where are you off too? . . . You won't tell me you saw me here, will you?" She said as an afterthought.

"I was just followi - I mean, going to get some . . . Vegetables. For Mrs. Patmore, you know. She's very fond of them."

"Well, _I'm_ off to a dance. Care to come along?"

"Yes! I mean, I'll think about it."

"You don't have much time!"

"I'll come."

Jimmy rather liked Rose, because she was an adventure and liked having a good time.

Rose, however, soon found Jimmy to be a shallow, vain, jerk.

She ditched him at the dance, and had a great time. Jimmy went back to Downton and was scolded by Carson for coming back so late.

_Hah,_ though Rose, _sucks for him! Too bad he's a shallow, vain, jerk!_

Mary had decided.

She had thought long and hard, and had come to a decision.

Her decision was: That she would make a decision, and decide on who to marry.

Mary bit her lip. It was easy to decide to decide, but not to actually make the decision she had decided to make.

She went back to her book, and read:

_Polygamy is now a common practice in Brazil, the Congo, and northern Jamaica. It is such a common practice that __-_

Mary looked up. There was the answer, as plain as day! She would marry _both_ Blake and Gillingham, profit from both of their fortunes, and everyone would be happy! It was such a perfect solution that she gasped aloud.

_to be continued . . ._


End file.
